


P is for Pain

by KateKintail



Series: The ABC Series 2006 [16]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: M/M, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-03
Updated: 2013-02-03
Packaged: 2017-11-28 01:51:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/668900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KateKintail/pseuds/KateKintail
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Qui-Gon had been given plenty of time to contemplate the word 'torture'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	P is for Pain

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of a collection of short H/C ficlets (they were supposed to be drabbles but I'm terrible at writing short things) from various fandoms. I asked on one of my LiveJournals for one word for each letter of the alphabet, as well as a fandom and/or pairing.

Qui-Gon had been given plenty of time to contemplate the word 'torture'. His captors were clearly experts on the subject and were going through it slowly in order to prolong the pain and suffering involved.   
  
In vain, he pulled again at his restraints. But the cuffs around his wrists were skin-tight as they strung him up on chains, arms spread wide so one hand could not possibly reach the other. The ones around his ankles were gravity restraints which weighted him down and kept him from kicking but allowed a little more freedom of movement, swinging back and forth. Nearly all his clothes had been stripped off, and a ballgag in his mouth made it impossible to say anything specific, and he refused to yell unintelligibly and give the torturers that satisfaction.  
  
The torturers both wore the uniforms of the nation at war with the nation which had requested Jedi aid. They both also wore black masks which hid everything except for their eyes and their mouths which were almost always in the form of sick grins.   
  
"I think it's time for another little question and answer session," one of them said from across the cold, practically bare room as he surveyed a tabletop of instruments. He selected a poker and eagerly set it down in front of the hearth, the end amidst the dancing flames of the fire.   
  
Qui-Gon gathered his strength and once again strained against his restraints. And, once again, he could not get free. He tried calling upon the Force to release him. He stared unblinkingly at one of his wristcuffs, trying to get it to open. He even tried calling out to Obi-Wan through their bond. But the room had clearly been fitted with Force dampeners. And his efforts were useless.   
  
When the poker was red hot, one of the men pulled it out. The sound of iron slowly sliding against stone made Qui-Gon shiver violently. And violently was how the men had struck so far.   
  
"Where is the entrance to their underground base?" one asked for the hundredth time.   
  
There was no answer. There could not be, no matter how much pain was inflicted. The Jedi had not been privy to such information.   
  
That did not stop the torturers. The poker smacked hard against bare ass and Qui-Gon winced. Purposefully, the cool portion had been used, but Qui-Gon knew that would not be the case for very long. The man would want to strike while the iron was...   
  
Another smack. "The security codes! We know you have them in that head somewhere. Don't make us force them out of you." Yet another smack, this time warmer and harder.   
  
Qui-Gon bit hard into the gag and closed his eyes. Again, there was no response. Qui-Gon tried to occupy his thoughts with plans of what would happen when this was all over. He pictured holding Obi-Wan in his arms and lying down on a large, comfortable bed. He would stroke Obi-Wan's head, his palm grazing over the soft, short hair. And he would hug the man so tightly and never let go again. In his mind, he detailed the kiss he wanted so desperately to give his padawan and tried to recall how it felt when Obi-Wan nuzzled him affectionately.  
  
The torturer swung his arm back and struck again, deliberately leaving the hot poker against sensitive skin for a second. There was a stifled cry and tears pricking behind eyes as the pain was endured and the intelligence was withheld.   
  
"Enough!" the other torturer yelled, stepping away from the wall, arms crossed over his chest. "Direct questions are getting us nowhere. Time to ease it out of him. Exhaust him enough and take him past the point of caring." The man's hands went to his bright blue belt and slowly undid the buttons there.   
  
A final smack, and a shudder in reaction. Cheeks were bright red, and now sported several poker-shaped marks.   
  
Qui-Gon desperately tried to reach out again to the Force. The other Jedi, led by Master Windu, surely had to be closing in on their location by now and it could not happen soon enough. He was not sure how much more of this he could take. Physical pain was one thing but this... He gathered all his strength and pulled again, his wrists practically raw as he tried to wrench them free.   
  
The man was pulling himself out and trousers were sliding down to the floor. Qui-Gon was sobbing and screaming inwardly. As the man began, Qui-Gon tried not to let his emotions show, but he could imagine nothing worse. Nauseous and horrified, Qui-Gon was not sure he could hold out through this.   
  
But if Obi-Wan could bear this pain, Qui-Gon would have to bear watching, helplessly, from across the room.


End file.
